No Child's Play
by konarciq
Summary: What is Hogan to do, when 'spying on the enemy' has become child's play? Written for the old "moral dilemma" challenge.
1. Spying on the Enemy

.

 **NO CHILD'S PLAY**

 _._

 _What is Hogan to do, when 'spying on the enemy' has become child's play?_

 _._

"Mum, can I take my bread outside? August and Werner are waiting for me."

Edith Meisinger sighed. "Alright. But finish your milk first." She watched how her son quickly emptied his mug. The boy was so much like his father in the fast pace with which he went through life. The adventurous spirit. And of course the beautiful brown eyes.

"Are you going to your secret hide-out again?" his sister Ida asked.

Theo nodded. "And before you ask again – no, you can't come. It's a secret. Besides, you're too young."

"I'm six!"

" _And_ you're a girl. And we have a very strict rule: boys only! So stop asking."

"It's not fair!" Ida whined. "Mum, tell him I can come, too! I want to have a secret hide-out, too!"

"Why don't you and Beate build your own secret hide-out in the backyard?" Edith suggested as she picked up her knitting work.

"That's not the same," Ida complained. "It won't be a secret if it's right here in the backyard. I want to go into the woods, too."

"Well, in that matter I agree with your brother – you _are_ too young."

Theo gave his sister a superior grin and got up.

"Hold it!" his mother said as he wanted to run off already. "You're not going anywhere without your bread."

"I'm just picking up something from my room." And gone he was, up the stairs.

Edith Meisinger sighed, and tried to shut out her daughter's sulky complaints. Instead, she tried to think of her husband, Horst, in faraway Norway. He'd been gone for over three years now – the youngest hadn't even been born when he was called into service. Thank God he was stationed at a fairly safe post – being part of the occupational forces wasn't half as dangerous as being out at the front. But Horst considered the natives to be too hostile to have his family join him in faraway Trondheim. Instead, they exchanged long and frequent letters, but it wasn't quite the same as having your husband at your side. In practice, she had to raise four kids on her own, and that, she found, was not an easy task. Theo especially needed a firm father-hand – he had gotten more and more difficult to handle lately. And he was barely nine years old! How was she going to deal with him once he reached the terrible teens? It didn't look as if the war would be over any time soon...

And there he was again. "Bye Mum." He grabbed his bread and...

Edith took him by the arm. "Be careful, okay? And don't go beyond the Hamel."

"Of course." Theo tried to pull free, but his mother wasn't finished yet.

"And make sure you don't tear your clothes again. And be back before dark, understood?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She pulled his head close to press a kiss on it, and finally let go of him. Her son. Her eldest. The child version of her dear Horst. "Have fun, sweetheart."

Theo gave her a cheeky grin. "Bye." And with his mouth full of bread he ran out the back door.

* * *

The woods reached right till the fence around the Meisinger's backyard, and Theo met his friends at the beginning of Herr Linnartz's track (named after the old man from number fifteen who always walked his dog there).

"You'll never guess what I laid my hands on," August greeted him.

Werner made a face. "A _girlie_ magazine – how do you like that?"

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "How did you get that?"

August grinned. "I saw my brother stashing it away yesterday. So now I've got it."

They all snickered. Not because they were interested in girls yet – heaven forbid, who needed girls?! – but because that kind of reading material was strictly off limits for boys their age, and thus its attraction was irresistible by definition.

"Come on, let's go," Werner urged, and led the way down the track to the Hamel.

They chatted about school, about their new teacher that none of them liked, about Saturday's Hitler Jugend meeting and ways to get out of its boring exercise drills, until the light ahead indicated they were approaching the rift. For that's when their rituals kicked in.

"Ssh!" Theo hushed, and motioned for the other two to stay out of sight. Then he crept from bush to bush, until he finally had a free view over the narrow brook of the Hamel below. Carefully, he spied around, but there was no one in sight. A short whistle, and some minutes later, his friends joined him in the same manner.

Meanwhile, Theo himself had remained on the look-out, and when he decided everything was still clear, a nod to Werner was enough to have his friend climb up the nearest tree.

Minutes later, a soft whistle from above announced that all was secure, and now August came into action. He quickly scaled the steep slope down to the gurgling water, and picked his away across the rocks to the opposite bank. Climbing up the steep bank and disappearing among the trees was the work of less than a minute, and immediately, he climbed up a specifically chosen tree there, too, to keep a look-out.

Theo followed suit, slipping a little on one of the rocks and barely avoiding getting his feet wet in the rapids, and hid in the bushes on the other side. And when August finally gave the all-clear signal, it was Werner's turn to leave his post in the tree and cross the splashing brook to join his friends again on the other side – the forbidden side – of the Hamel.

August quickly clambered down again, too, and together, they crept the last few meters through the undergrowth till they reached a large disfigured pine tree. _Their_ pine tree, with their tree house priding in it some five meters off the ground.

Again, they took turns in looking out and climbing up, until at last they had all disappeared in their secret tree house, and the deserted woods became quiet again.

* * *

"Hey guys, let's do something else now." Werner and August had been poring over that stupid magazine for what seemed like hours. At least that's how it felt to Theo, who had lost interest pretty quickly. (Who cares about girls after all?)

August looked up and stretched his arms over his head. "Yeah, you're right. There's only so much girls one can take." He jabbed Werner in the side. "So what'll we do?"

Even Werner put the delectable magazine down. "We can set rabbit traps again."

"We never catch anything anyway," August scoffed.

"No, that's boring." Theo shook his head. "But I've got a better idea: let's go spy on the enemy!"

The other two stared at him. "The enemy?"

"Sure! There's that prison camp down the road, right? The trucks with new prisoners always pass by our house. So let's go spy on them!"

"What's to spy on them? They're prisoners!" August objected, but he was already getting up.

"Well, they're still the enemy," Theo countered. "Let's see what they're up to."

They clambered down from their secret tree house, and instantly, Theo took the lead. "Now we got to be awfully careful. We can't let them see us before we see them." He himself gave the example by ducking down behind a tree and thoroughly scanning his surroundings before swiftly moving to the next tree. Spying or not, it was an exhilarating game – especially when Theo suddenly ordered them flat on the ground to avoid detection by the car that passed them on the road.

"We've got to stay alert," he whispered once it was safe enough to get up again. "We can't let anyone see us, or we're dead meat."

"How much further to the camp?" August mouthed back to him.

"A little further still." Truth be told, he didn't know, but... "We just make sure we follow the Hamelburg Road and we'll get there. Come on." He dashed to the next tree, with his friends in his wake. Another tree, a bush, a tree, a tree... Theo kept an eagle eye on the lighter stretch to his left that represented the road – so much in fact, that it was Werner who spotted the camp up ahead.

"There's a clearing up ahead. And I can see barbed wire."

"That must be it!" August's voice rose in pitch with excitement.

"Let's get closer," Theo ordered. "But super careful now, okay?"

With even more vigilance than before, they crept from tree to tree and from bush to bush. Their eyes were glued to the long stretch of barbed wire fence up ahead. They could make out wooden huts behind the fence, and once they saw a patrolling soldier with a dog go by. The dog looked in their direction, but thank heaven that he didn't give them away. And finally, they crouched down behind some bramble bushes at the tree line, where they had a free view of the camp.

To start with, there wasn't much to see actually. They were looking straight at the back of some wooden huts. Off to the left was a guard tower with one guard on it, and the only prisoners in sight were casually ambling away from them a good distance to their right.

They watched the near inactivity on the other side of the wire for a good while, until at last Werner asked, "How many prisoners are there in this camp?"

Theo shrugged. "A hundred, I guess. Or two hundred. Three hundred maybe. Judging by the trucks full that I've seen passing our house."

"Then where are all these guys? Are they hiding in the huts or so?"

"Maybe we just need a better look-out point," August thought. "Somewhere where those huts aren't blocking the view."

A big smile slowly spread over Theo's face. "We just need to get a bit higher up." He looked around. "There. That pine tree will do. Easy to climb, and we'd be nicely hidden ourselves."

Immediately, the spark was back. Without making a sound, they crept to the big pine tree, and experienced tree climbers as they were, it was the work of minutes before they were all perched on a sturdy branch some four meters above the ground, securely hidden from sight by the greens.

"Wow, there's lots of them!" Werner breathed peering through the clumps of pine needles.

"A hundred at least!" Theo thought with a hint of satisfaction.

Indeed there were. There were prisoners – enemies – milling about everywhere, and out in the barren compound, a rather lazy volleyball game was going on.

"The ones with the helmets are ours, right?" August got up again and moved on to the next branch up. "Not many of them there, are there. The prisoners have them way outnumbered."

"But ours have guns," Theo pointed out.

"And they look a lot better, too," Werner commented. "The enemies look really shabby. No military pride at all."

"Of course they do. They're no Aryans."

To that, Theo and Werner just shared a tiny grimace, and nothing more was said until Werner's eye fell on something else. "Look, over there – they're doing the laundry!"

"Where?"

Werner pointed, and Theo snickered. "Imagine – a guy doing the laundry. How humiliating."

"I wouldn't be caught dead doing the laundry," August declared. "I'd rather walk around in the same clothes for a year."

The other two agreed, and they watched with some gloat how the enemy prisoners scrubbed, rinsed and hung their garments.

Then they returned to the real espionage work in determining which of the enemies was the most evil-looking (as far as they could tell from this distance), speculated about what the enemy in the leather jacket had done in the Kommandant's office (murder the Kommandant perhaps?), and debated the purpose of the blond lady in the camp as she got escorted to the gate under a chorus of appreciative whistles (maybe she was the Kommandant's girl-friend?).

Until suddenly, Theo poked Werner in the ribs. "Look!" He pointed downwards.

Not far from their vantage point, a man in a long blue overcoat sat crouched behind the bushes.

"Who's that?" August asked.

Theo had an impatient shrug.

"He's waiting for something," Werner thought.

And indeed, the man seemed to be watching the guard tower in the distance.

"Maybe he's a spy, too," August whispered.

"Ssh!" Theo kept his eyes on the guy. He was certainly acting suspiciously enough to be a real spy. What the heck was he doing down there in the bushes?

But the next moment he grabbed Werner's arm in suppressed excitement. The guy in the blue overcoat had gotten to his feet and swiftly, keeping as low as he could, moved toward the... no, to one of those tree stumps! One last look around and...

Up in the pine tree, three jaws dropped. The top of the tree stump opened up, and the guy in the blue overcoat quickly climbed inside and disappeared, closing the top of the tree stump as he descended into... into what?


	2. Down the Hollow Tree Stump

It was a full minute before any of them found their voice again. "Did you see that?" August breathed from his perch above the other two.

"That tree stump is hollow!"

"And the guy went right inside! Underground!" Theo took a deep breath. "What do you think he'll be doing down there?"

"Maybe it's the entrance to a tunnel?" Werner suggested.

"A tunnel _where_?" Theo asked. "Surely no one is going to use a secret tunnel to get _into_ a prison camp. And for the rest there's nothing but woods around here."

That made sense.

"Maybe..." August sat up a little straighter. "Maybe it's the secret hiding place of a bunch of bankrobbers! That they hide their booty down there!"

"You mean there's bags and bags full of money down there?"

But Werner shook his head. "He didn't look like a bankrobber."

"How do _you_ know what a bankrobber looks like..."

Werner shrugged. "Besides, it's got to be the worst hiding place ever: right next to the prison camp where all the prisoners can see him, plus that guard up in the tower... And that when he's got a whole forest right behind him to hide that stuff."

That made sense, too.

They each contemplated the possibilities further, until August declared, "It's _got_ to do something with the prison camp – it's right outside the fence, and there is nothing else but trees for miles around. It must be an escape tunnel."

"But that guy went _into_ it, not out," Theo argued. "It didn't look like he was escaping. Rather the opposite."

"But that's silly," Werner said. "No one would want to get _into_ a prison camp." He paused. "Maybe we should tell the soldier at the guard tower."

"He'll never believe us," August scoffed.

"No, that's true," Theo agreed. "But maybe if we had some proof..." His eyes glittered. "Maybe we should go down there ourselves, to see what's there. And _then_ we can report it to the guards."

"But what if that guy is still down there?" Werner asked.

"We can wait a little longer. He won't be down there forever."

They waited. And waited. But youth is generally not blessed with an excess of patience, and these three boys were no exception. So, "Come on. Let's go," Theo said. "Wherever he got to underground, it doesn't look like he's coming back out."

Swiftly, the boys climbed down the tree, and keeping as low as they could, they made their way over to the bushes where their spy in the blue overcoat had been lurking.

"It's that one – the stump in the middle," Theo pointed.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

They scanned their surroundings thoroughly, but there was no enemy prisoner in sight. And the soldier up at the distant guard tower seemed to be looking the other way.

"Come." Theo got up and with a last look around, he jumped towards the middle tree stump. Now how did it open?

August and Werner appeared at his side. Together, they tried to pry open the top of the tree stump; August was the one who got lucky and pulled right.

"Yess!" he let out under his breath.

Inside the tree stump was a crude wooden ladder leading several meters down into the empty darkness.

"Quick!" Theo urged. He glanced back at the guard up the tower, but the guy was still oblivious. Meanwhile, August was already descending below. Theo followed, and Werner brought up the rear, closing the tree stump hatch behind him.

A moment later they were standing together on the dirt-packed floor at the bottom of the stairs, looking around at what seemed to be an underground room. From up ahead, a small oil lamp shed some light on their surroundings. It seemed like there was a tunnel leading that way, and in the distance they could make out the murmur of voices.

Theo put his finger on his lips, and then gestured for the others to follow him. Without making a sound, he moved toward the sparsely lit tunnel. Further down, the light was much brighter – that was probably where the voices were coming from. Stealthily, he moved on, hearing his friends' quick breathing behind him. If they were found out now...

He had almost reached the better lit room now, and pressed himself against the dirt wall to cover the last few meters. August and Werner followed his example. They could clearly make out different voices now – and they didn't speak German. Theo wasn't sure – perhaps it was English. A little further still, and... Carefully, he peered around the corner. There they were: three, four, five men in tattered foreign uniforms. Prisoners from the camp. Underground. _Enemies_...

He watched them as they talked in their incomprehensible language. The one in the blue overcoat was there, and also the one in the leather jacket who might have murdered the Kommandant. And behind a table with some technical device on it sat a large black skinned man. A real negro!

He felt how August and Werner came closer and peered around him, as mesmerized by the scene before them as he was. What were these guys doing underground? With a tunnel going out of their prison? A tunnel they went _into_ instead of out? And what was that complicated thingamajig on the table?

Suddenly, the incomprehensible conversation halted, and the five enemies turned.

They turned.

And looked straight at them.


	3. I Promise We Won't Tell!

"Colonel," Kinch quietly interrupted the lively dialogue. "We've got visitors."

Everyone turned in the direction where Kinch was looking. And there, at the entrance to the emergency tunnel, they found three pairs of eyes staring back at them.

For half a second, both parties seemed frozen. Then, as one, the four men on this side of the table charged toward the intruders.

The three boys fled as if their lives depended on it. And it did – this was a more than serious breach of security. If they got outside and told anyone about...

Carter caught the first one by his jacket halfway down the emergency tunnel. Newkirk brought down the second one with a flying tackle. And Hogan grabbed the third one just when he tried to jump up the ladder to the tree stump exit.

"Let go of me!" his charge yelled.

But Hogan carried his kicking catch back to the radio room, where he was met by general astonishment.

"Colonel – they're kids!"

"I can see that, Carter." Hogan looked exceptionally grim. "But kids or adults, that doesn't make it any less of a problem." He put down the boy he was carrying on his feet, and positioned himself next to LeBeau, effectively blocking the emergency tunnel.

For a moment, they all studied one another, until one of the boys nervously inquired, "Is... is that a... _real_ gun?"

They all turned to Kinch who had grabbed his gun the moment his friends had charged after the intruders. He looked at it, before answering the trembling boy in German, "Yes. This is a real gun."

"Are you... are you going to shoot us?!"

Kinch looked at the Colonel, but Hogan seemed unwilling to answer that question. Instead he started asking questions himself. "What are you boys doing here?"

"We were... spying."

" _Spying_?"

"Yes." Another gulp. "Spying on the enemy. In the camp. It was just for fun. And then... and then this man in the blue coat came and..."

"He disappeared into the ground. Into a hollow tree stump," one of the others took over. "And then... we just wanted to see where he went."

"So you climbed down the tree stump yourselves." Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're not going to shoot us, are you?" the first boy pleaded. "We didn't mean any harm – honest! It was just a game!"

"We promise we won't tell anyone!" the third one piped up.

"Yeah..." The Colonel heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, it's not that simple." He turned to LeBeau and switched to English. "LeBeau, go and check with the periscope. If anyone's seen them entering, there should be flurry of activity around there. And while you're there, lock the tunnel exit."

"Oui, mon Colonel."

LeBeau disappeared, and in the silence that followed, Carter piped up, "What are we going to do with them, Colonel?"

"I don't know, Carter."

"They're bound to come looking for them if they don't come home tonight," Kinch pointed out. And to the kids, "Did you tell your parents you'd come all the way out here to spy on the enemy?"

Three shakes of the head were his reply, and the bravest of the boys ventured, "How come you speak German?"

"We speak many languages," was Kinch's cryptic reply.

"So where do you boys live?" Hogan picked up the interrogation again.

"In Hamelburg," the bravest boy answered.

"And what are your names?"

"Theo Meisinger."

"August Ellerbeck."

"W-Werner Zitzelsberger."

"And if you didn't tell your parents you were coming _here_ , where do they _think_ you are?"

The boys looked at each other. "At our secret hide-out." Theo seemed to be the spokesman of the three.

"And where is that?"

"Well..." Theo squirmed a little. "They _think_ it's on the other side of the Hamel. The side of the town."

"But?"

"It's... it's really on this side..."

"Where?"

"Are you going to tell our parents?" the boy named Werner quivered.

"We're not supposed to cross the Hamel," Theo explained. "We're going to be in a whole lot of trouble if they'd find out."

"You're already in a whole lot of trouble," Hogan pointed out. "Now where is this secret hide-out?"

Theo hesitated a moment, but then he stuck out his chin. "I'm not going to tell you. You're the enemy, and it's our secret."

Hogan sighed. "Look. You three have seen far too much; there's no way I can just let you go home again. But I don't want to leave your parents completely in the dark, so I want to leave a message in a place where I can be reasonably sure that they'll find it."

"They'll never find our hide-out," Theo interjected with pride.

"They will – in time. When you three go missing, there's bound to be a very thorough search. Even on this side of the Hamel when they don't find you on the other side. They'll find it alright. So where is it."

The other two boys looked to Theo for guidance as he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Hogan saw it, with a twinge of pity and a hint of admiration in his eye. And quietly, he said, "I understand you want to keep your hide-out a secret, but there's no point. You're _not_ going back there."

"You mean you are going to keep us here?" August asked hesitantly.

"For now – yes. Until we figure out what to do with you."

"You're not going to shoot us, are you?!"

"I'd rather not, no. But I do know that there is no way I can let you boys go home again. At least not until the war is over."

Werner gasped, his hand groping for his friend's in search of support. Even Theo seemed to lose some of his cool. August instead drew himself up to his full height (however unimpressive that may be since he didn't even reach till Hogan's shoulder) and declared defiantly, "Well, we're not telling you. Ever! You can kill us, or tortu..."

Theo quickly slapped his hand over his friend's mouth. "Don't be stupid!" he hissed. "These guys are for real!" And to Hogan, "Are you serious? _Really_ serious? About keeping us here, I mean? Till the war is over?"

Hogan nodded once. "Dead serious."

They held each other's eyes for a moment. Then Theo looked away with a slight sigh. A few seconds of silence in which he seemed to make up his mind, one more glance at his friends, and then... "It's on this side of the Hamel. If you come from town, you cross the bridge and follow the river to your right – maybe a hundred meters or so. There're some rocks in the Hamel there, making some rapids. If you go straight into the woods from there, you'll find our tree house in one of the first big pine trees."

August glared at him, but Hogan nodded a silent 'thank you'.

"We'll make sure your parents will know what happened."

And there was LeBeau back. "All clear around the tree stump, mon Colonel. And I locked the exit."

Hogan switched back to English, too. "Good. And it stays locked from now on. At least as long as we're all in camp." And to Newkirk, "Newkirk, go and fetch Addison and Olsen. I want two German speaking guards on these boys around the clock."

"Aye, sir."

"Kinch, notify London and ask how soon they can send a courier plane. These kids are too big a risk to send via the escape route."

"Right, sir."

"Carter, I want you to blow up that tree house. Make it look like the boys had some undetonated bombs or handgrenades up there that they might have found somewhere. The blast must be big enough to leave no trace of any bodies, but try not to start a full-blown forest fire."

Carter nodded, his face slightly troubled. "Tonight, Colonel?"

"The sooner, the better. These kids are probably already late for dinner." And turning back to their uninvited visitors, "You boys will be our guests for now. And don't worry – as long as you do as you're told, no one is going to shoot you."

The boys nodded, but the one called Werner piped up, "Can't you just let us go home? I promise we won't tell anyone."

A fleeting expression of remorse flitted over the Colonel's face. "Sorry, lad. Can't do." With that, he jerked his head to LeBeau to take the boys to the guest room, and jumped up the ladder to the barracks.


	4. I Want to Go Hoooome!

"Colonel?" Carter peeked around the door just in time to see Hogan unburying his head from his hands.

"What happened to the art of knocking?" he muttered in a decidedly peevish tone.

"Sorry, sir." Carter came in now. "I just wanted to tell you that I've got the explosives for the tree house ready." He tilted his head. "Are you okay, Colonel?"

A sigh. "Yeah... I'm alright." Truth be told, he felt like a heel for what he was going to do to those boys. Had to do to them. Not to mention their parents...

"You know..." Carter shifted uneasily. "I feel pretty bad about this. I mean, of course we can't let these kids run around free after what they've seen, but..."

"Exactly," the Colonel interrupted him pointedly. "So can you _please_ go and take care of that tree house before someone comes looking for them there?"

Carter's face turned reproachful. "Yes, sir."

"And take LeBeau with you as look-out."

"Yes, sir."

"And one of the boys was wearing a jacket. Make sure you get it from him and leave it at the site."

Carter just kept looking at him, until the Colonel was forced to avert his eyes. "Sorry, Carter."

Carter's stance was rigid, and he pursed his lips tightly before blurting out, "Yeah, well, I'm sorry, too. For those _parents_." With that, he slammed the door to the office shut behind him, making Hogan wince.

* * *

Down in the tunnel, a different conversation was taking place.

"What's going to happen to us now?" Werner whispered. He sat huddled in his thin summer jacket on one of the cots with Theo.

Theo shrugged. "I don't know. We're pretty much prisoners, aren't we."

Werner shivered.

And on the cot across from them, August let out a snort. "We can't be their prisoners. They're prisoners themselves!"

"Well, who says prisoners can't take prisoners of their own?" Theo put in.

"But that's...!" For a moment, August was lost for words. "They can't do that! This is _our_ country – those foreigners can't take us prisoner in our own country!" He looked from Theo to Werner and back. "Can they?"

Theo gestured around him. "See for yourself."

Both August and Werner took another look at their surroundings – the dim underground room with its dirt walls, floor and ceiling. The eight cots crammed into it. The opening leading to the tunnel. And the two men guarding them – one in the doorway, the other one on one of the cots.

"So what are they going to do with us?" Werner asked again. "Surely they can't keep us here forever?"

"Only until the war is over," Theo placated him. "They're bound to let us go when the war is over."

"How long is that going to be?" August asked.

Another shrug.

"I don't want to stay underground for so long!" Werner's voice was taking on a decided quiver.

"Neither do I." Theo heaved a sigh. "I promised my Dad when he went off to Norway that I'd be the man of the house. Take care of Mum and the kids. But how can I do that when I'm stuck here?"

August nodded. "My Mum is going to have a fit when I don't come home tonight."

"I want to go home," Werner said in a tiny voice.

"Yeah..." Theo leaned back against the dirt wall.

But August pushed himself up a bit straighter. "All we need to do is come up with a plan!"

But, "Uh-uh," came it from the dark-haired guard on the next cot. "You can forget about escaping, boys. Remember what the Colonel said? _'As long as you do as you're told, we're not going to shoot you.'_ And trying to escape would definitely come under _not_ doing as you're told."

The three boys stared at him – August defiantly, Theo resigned, and Werner with dread.

"Then what are you going to do with us? Surely you don't mean to keep us locked up down here until the war is over?" August demanded.

"Maybe you can let us go home in a few days?" Werner hoped.

Olsen shook his head. "Sorry, boys. No can't do. I don't know exactly what the Colonel has in mind for you, but going home is out of the question."

At that moment, one of the other men (the one who had caught Werner when they had tried to flee the tunnel) appeared in the door opening. He carried a few blankets, and looked more than a little uncomfortable. "Um... I thought you boys might want to huddle in these blankets. It can get a little chilly down here." He helped to wrap each of them in a double layer of blankets, until...

"You'd better give me your jacket. It's not going to do you much good down here."

"No!" Werner pulled his jacket tighter around him.

"I'm sorry, but..."

"He said no!" Theo came to his friend's help. "And you're not getting anything from us, so back off!"

Carter blinked. "It's not for me. It's to leave a message at your tree house."

"What message?" August demanded. "That you kidnapped us?"

"No." Carter was momentarily confused. "We didn't kidnap you, did we? You came here out of your own free will."

"So what are you going to write to our parents then?" August persisted belligerently.

Carter gulped, and glanced at Olsen for support. "Actually, I'm not going to write anything. I'm..." He cleared his throat. "I'm just going to blow up your tree house, and I need something to prove that you were there when it happened."

Three pairs of eyes stared back at him – shocked.

"Blow up our tree house?! Why?" Theo managed to get out.

"You can't do that!" August protested.

Carter averted his eyes. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to."

"Why?" Theo asked again.

"Why can't you just leave a message?" Werner piped up.

On the next cot, Olsen let out a dark chuckle. "Like, _'Sorry, Mums and Dads, but your sons were a bit too nosy. But don't worry – we'll keep them on ice for you until the war is over.'_ "

"What's wrong with that?" Werner squeaked. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

Carter let out a sigh. "If we leave a message like that, your parents will just keep searching till they find you. We can't have that," he said quietly.

"Y-you mean..." Theo was almost apoplectic. "You mean you want to make sure they _don't_ come looking for us?"

"Of course they'll come looking for us!" August spoke up.

"Not if they think we're dead. Blown up with the tree house." Clearly, Theo was a smart kid.

Werner began to cry. "I don't want to die..." he sobbed.

Olsen stretched out a hand to rub the boy's knee. "You're not going to die," he assured him. "We just need your parents to _think_ that you're dead."

"That's cruel!" August declared.

"I know." Carter sighed. "And I hate to do it. But there's no way we can let you kids go back home. Not until the war is over."

"So what are you going to do with us then?" Theo wanted to know. "Are you going to keep us down here till the war is over?"

"I don't know." Carter looked uncomfortable. "That's up to the Colonel to decide. Now can I have your jacket? Please?" he added to Werner. It sounded like a plea for forgiveness.

But Werner shook his head, and brushed at his tears. "I'm not giving you my jacket. I want my Dad to come looking for me."

Carter and Olsen looked at each other. "Look, kid," Olsen tried to reason with the boy. "It's no use resisting. We're trained soldiers, and you're just kids. In the tunnel alone we've got you way outnumbered, and if need be, we have guns that we can use to get what we want. Real guns. You can dig in your heels all you want, but you don't stand a chance, kid." He paused. "Now give him the jacket."

The only response was a renewed bout of crying.

Theo looked at his friend. "Give him the jacket, Werner," he said quietly. "It's not worth dying for."

Still sobbing, Werner did as his friend told him.

"Thank you," Carter said quietly.

But all the way down to the tree stump exit, Werner's howls haunted him.

" _I want to go hoooome...!"_


	5. Treasure Trove

"It's just not right," Carter muttered as he trudged with LeBeau through the slowly darkening forest.

LeBeau hummed his agreement, although he couldn't resist to add, "But what else could we do? Those boys have seen way too much."

"True, but... Sending them all the way to London?!"

"Where else would you have them go?"

Carter sighed. "I don't know, but... Gee, it's not like they're dangerous criminals. They're kids, for Pete's sake!"

"Yes. But even kids can become a security risk."

"At least we could send their families along, and..."

LeBeau snorted. "Sure. Get even more people to know about our organization. People who have no reason whatsoever to keep their mouth shut."

Carter grumbled a bit at that. "It's just... what's going to happen to them in London? Are they going to stick them in a POW camp? They're just kids!"

"I don't know. Foster homes, I suppose," LeBeau thought.

Carter made no reply, and they continued in silence until they reached the gurgling Hamel.

"Now we have to look for rapids." LeBeau looked about.

"There's two in this section – one close to the road, and the other in the curve a bit further upstream."

LeBeau already opened his mouth to question him, but thought the better of it. Carter may be a hopeless klutz, but as a country-boy, he picked out landmarks in nature as a matter of course. Where the others just saw a blur of trees, Carter would recall a specific tree they had passed. And it was likely that it worked the same for a brook they regularly had to cross.

Meanwhile, Carter was looking about, trying to decide which way to go. "What did they say again? About a hundred meters from the road?"

LeBeau nodded. "And on this side."

"And a meter is about the same as a yard, right?"

LeBeau couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Why don't you guys switch to the metric system? It's so much easier."

Carter smirked. "Well, you're the only one on the team to think so. But a yard is about a meter, right?"

"Right."

"Then the tree house must be at the rapids upstream. There's no way they could call those other rapids, 'a hundred meters from the road'."

"Who says those kids are any good at estimating distances?" LeBeau queried.

Carter had a shrug. "If we don't find it there, we can always come back to the other one." And he took the lead in turning left, carefully keeping to the trees, until they could make out the unmistakable splashy sound of nearby rapids. Silently, they crept back to the edge of the woods, until they came out by the curve in the Hamel.

"Now from here on straight into the woods." Carter was still taking the lead. "And we better split up a little to cover more ground. The growing dusk isn't going to make this any easier."

Still, they found the tree house within minutes – a sturdy cube some five meters off the ground, near the top of a disfigured pine tree.

Carter whistled softly. "Wow... That is some tree house!"

LeBeau nodded impatiently. "Now get up there and set the charges. I'll stay down here as a look-out." He peered warily up at the structure. "Are you sure you can get up there?"

Carter grinned. "Piece of pie. Back when I was a kid, I've built like half a dozen tree houses myself, with my friends and my brothers. One was even..."

"Save the details for when we're back at camp," LeBeau cut him off, and handed him his share of the explosives. "And be careful, mon ami."

"Sure." Carter slung the second bag over his shoulder and took hold of the lowest branch. And despite LeBeau's misgivings that he'd come tumbling down with a ghastly cry any moment, it took Carter mere seconds to pull himself up onto that first branch, and mere minutes to clamber up and disappear into the tree house.

And LeBeau shook his head. "Well, what do you know... Miracles do happen!"

* * *

Carefully, Carter crawled inside and pulled out his screened flashlight. He could safely turn it on, he saw – the entrance was covered by a dark cloth, there were no windows, and the hut had a roof made of something that looked like an army camouflage tarpaulin. He wondered how they had gotten hold of _that_!

But all in all, the boys' tree house looked pretty sturdy.

He let his light dance around the floor and the walls. There was a small vane from the local soccer club, an almanac from 1941, a big magnet, a magnifying glass, bits of string and wire, a rusty hammer and a cardboard box filled with a variety of nails, a simple catapult, a fossil, a flashlight, a candle with some matchboxes, a handmade bow and arrow, and there in the corner a small collection of comic... No, what was that? He guffawed quietly. A girlie magazine!? They were a fair bit young for that, weren't they? But no, it was only one girlie magazine on top of a bunch of dog-eared comics.

Once more, he let his light wander around; then he started to take the handgrenades and the few sticks of dynamite out of his bags. His experienced eyes quickly found the most effective way to place them, but before he lit the fuses...

He looked around at the boys' treasures. And at his now empty bags. Shouldn't he... like...? Imagine being sent to another country, where you know no one, you don't understand the language, you know you're going to be stuck there for years with no hope of even contacting your Mum and Dad... and all of that when you're what... nine, ten years old?

He nodded to himself, and started stashing the boys' property into one of his bags: the magnet, the soccer vane, the magnifying glass, the comic books (including the girlie magazine), the flashlight, the fossil, the... no. Colonel Hogan probably would not approve of the boys having weapons of any kind. But at least this was something. Something from home.

One last look around, and he lit the fuses. The boy's jacket hanging right outside the door opening, and then he quickly clambered down again.

"Quick," LeBeau hissed as soon as he hit the ground. "How much time do we have?"

"About six, seven minutes, I think." Carter shouldered his bag. "Pity we can't stay to watch though. Just to make sure it goes up alright."

"I'm sure it will. Now let's get back to camp before we're caught here."

* * *

"Knock knock." Bashfully, Carter appeared in the open doorway to the room where their young charges were being kept.

August met his arrival with a glare. "Did you really blow up our tree house?"

"Um... yes. I did. But I've got something for you." He came in and carefully emptied his bag on August's cot. August and Werner immediately jumped on their treasures, but Theo needed to satisfy his curiosity first.

"How did you blow it up? I mean, what did you use to blow it up?"

Carter grinned despite himself. "I used a few sticks of dynamite with fuses, and that explosion set off a chain reaction in the half dozen handgrenades lying right next to it."

"And did you watch it blow up?"

Carter shook his head. "We had to get back here as quickly as possible. But we did hear the explosions. And we saw the glow through the trees." He let out a sigh. "I guess the fire brigade will be there any moment now."

Theo nodded. He felt a bit melancholic.

"You know, I was pretty impressed by what you boys built there," Carter continued. "I've built quite a few tree houses myself in my youth, but few of them were as sturdy as this one."

Theo smiled a little at the compliment. "We only just finished it last week," he told the friendly enemy soldier.

Carter nodded. "Well, you can always build a new one. The building is actually the best part of it, isn't it."

"Yeah." The boy turned away, and idly began ruffling through their collection of comics.

And Carter understood. It had been the natural ennui after the excitement coming with the building of the hut that had led to today's game of 'spying on the enemy'. With the present harsh consequences as a result.

.

.

* * *

 _Author's note: Okay, so this is how far I've gotten. I'm afraid I can't promise you the story will be continued any time *real* soon, with work and all. Don't worry - I've got the plot all worked out - I just need to find the peace and the time to write it down! And all your lovely and encouraging comments will certainly prompt me to try and complete this story within a reasonable timeframe!_

 _As it is, I will be going on a holiday this week (Garmisch-Partenkirchen, in the German Alps, followed by my first André Rieu concert in Graz, Austria - yay!). I'm certainly taking this story's notebook with me - if the weather ain't too good, who knows, I might write some more... ;-)_


	6. Plans for Tomorrow

The bunkbed rattled upward, and out of the tunnels climbed Kinch with a blue note in his hand. "Where's the Colonel?"

"In his quarters," was Goldman's reply.

So Kinch let the bunkbed fall into place again before crossing the room and knocking on the Colonel's door.

"Come in," he heard.

He entered, leaving the door open. "I got a reply from London, Colonel. They're sending a courier plane tomorrow night."

Hogan jerked his head to indicate that he should close the door; only when that was done did he unfold the blue note and read the few lines on them. And grimaced as he crunched it into a ball. " _'And don't let it happen again,'_ " he quoted with scornful sarcasm. "How I keep wishing it had never happened in the first place..."

Kinch shifted uneasily. "You did what you had to, Colonel."

Hogan shook his head. "Somehow, that doesn't make it any better."

"Because of their families?" Kinch ventured.

Hogan sighed. "Yes. And because of what's going to happen to those kids."

Kinch frowned slightly. "They'll put them in foster homes or something like that, won't they? And when the war is over, they..."

"Exactly – when the war is over...!" Hogan interrupted him.

"You think they'll make trouble _after_ the war is over?"

"I don't know if they will, but Headquarters is bound to make sure that they won't." Hogan shook his head. "They're probably going to dump them on some remote little island in northern Scotland, with little or no contact with the outside world – and they're going to be stuck there for the rest of their lives!"

"The rest of their lives?! I thought..."

Hogan let out a sigh. He looked terribly tired for a moment. And _old_. "Kinch... you realize that in our work here, we're making an awful lot of enemies. _Personal_ enemies. If I only think about all the people we've sent to London against their will..."

Kinch nodded slowly.

"Sooner or later, those people will be running around free again. Well, many of them at least. And it's certainly feasible that some of them will be set on revenge. Revenge on _us_ , who got them out of a war they were certain they could help Germany win. So in order to protect us..."

"Headquarters is going to keep our operation classified," Kinch filled in quietly.

"Yes. I'm no expert in the bureaucracy of Special Operations, but I suspect it'll be kept classified for years to come. Decades even. And for all that time, those boys will have to be kept away from anyone who'd wish us harm. In short, they'll have to be kept pretty much isolated. For the simple reason that they know too much and have no reason to keep their mouth shut."

"Holy cow...!" Kinch breathed.

Silence.

"And you know what, Kinch? I can't possibly blame those kids. If I had seen a man disappear into a hollow tree stump when I was ten years old..."

Kinch smiled despite himself. "You would have done the same. I think every boy would."

Hogan sighed. "Just their bad luck, I guess." He looked up. "But keep this knowledge to yourself for now, okay? I don't want the boys to get wind of it before they get to London. Let them think they can go home once the war is over. They'll be upset enough when they find out they'll have to leave the country." And as an afterthought, he added, "And don't tell the men either. The situation is difficult enough as it is."

* * *

"Raus everybody! Roll call!"

Grumbling, the men left whatever was occupying their time and zipped up their jackets to go out into the last light of the day. Hogan made sure he caught the eye of some of the men; the imperceptible nods and winks he got in reply assured him that they were ready to put on their diversions to avoid Schultz's noticing that two men were missing.

Slowly, the two ragged lines formed in front of barracks 2. And once the men finally quieted down, Schultz took out his clipboard.

"Addison?"

"Here." It was Barnes who answered, but Schultz didn't even blink. As usual, he hadn't noticed – or he preferred not to notice.

"Baker."

"Here." Again, Schultz didn't notice (or seemed not to notice) that it was Garth who answered instead.

"Barnes."

"Here."

"Beauchamp."

"Here."

"Broughton."

"Here."

"Carter."

"Present."

"Davis."

"Here."

"Garth."

With everyone cooperating, Schultz went through his list in less than a minute. Happy that everything was going off without a hitch for a change, he put away his clipboard and waddled over to the end of the line to count the men. Making his way in between the two lines, he quickly went, "Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf..."

"Hey!" came an angry shout from behind him.

Before Schultz could whip around to see what was going on, Davis had hit Saunders and Saunders had punched Davis.

"Halt! What is going on here?" Schultz demanded, while behind his back, Barnes quickly moved a few places up the line.

Meanwhile, Davis complained loudly to Schultz that Saunders had punched him.

"But you hit me first!" Saunders gave back.

"I did not!"

"You did, too!"

Schultz shook his head. "You two sound like little children. Now behave yourselves, will you?" He watched for a moment as the two troublemakers kept glaring at each other, but then he turned back to his counting. Or rather... "Now where was I?"

"Here." A helpful Beauchamp raised his hand. "I was number foompf."

"Thank you." Schultz smiled gratefully. "Now let me see. Fünf, sechs, sieben (that was Barnes counted a second time), acht, neun, zehn..."

"At- _CHOO_!"

Schultz literally jumped, before turning to see who was responsible for that giant sneeze.

"At- _CHOO_!" poor Goldman went again, and, "At- _CHOO_! At- _CHOO_!"

Quickly, behind Schultz's back, Broughton moved up a few places in the line, coming to stand next to Carter.

"Goldman, ach du lieber! You've got a verrry bad cold! Maybe you should go to the infirmary!"

But Goldman shook his head, and pulled out a giant checkered handkerchief before his affliction could attack him again. "Not a cold – it's just hay fever," he wheezed, before collapsing in another sneezing fit.

Schultz shook his head in compassion as Goldman blew his nose with the sound of a trumpeting elephant, wiped his eyes, and with a last little sneeze put away his handkerchief.

"Don't worry, Schultz," the poor sneezer assured him with a watery smile. "As soon as winter sets in, it's over. And in this neck of the woods, winter will be back before we know it, won't it."

Schultz couldn't stop a sigh. "Unfortunately, that's all too true..." But then he returned to the task at hand. "Now where was I again?"

"He was next," Carter pointed with his chin.

"Who 'he'?"

"Me," LeBeau clarified. "I was going to be numéro onze."

Schultz's eyebrows shot up. "Onze?"

"That's eleven in civilized lingo," Newkirk smirked, earning a glare from LeBeau.

"Elf then," Schultz corrected. "Alright. Elf, zwölf (that was Broughton again), dreizehn, vierzehn und fünfzehn. Good. All present and accounted for."

* * *

"Theo?"

In the near complete darkness, Theo turned his head toward his friend.

"Are you asleep?"

"No."

"Ssh!" August's voice was barely more than a breath. "Let them think we're asleep."

Theo rolled on to his side, so that he was facing his friend. "What's up?" he whispered.

"Ssh. Wait."

In the door opening to their improvised holding cell, one of their guards moved. There was a sigh. A rustle of clothes. The creaking of a cot. And all the while, Theo and August lay motionless on their neighbouring cots.

"What is it?" Theo whispered at long last.

August carefully moved his head a little closer. "I've been thinking," he breathed. "To have all three of us escape from here will be tricky. But we really only need one of us to get out – then he can warn our parents and the Kommandant and everything. And then the other two will be free in no time."

Theo mulled the idea over for a moment, and had to admit it made sense. "So who's going to try and escape?" he whispered under his breath.

"I will," August declared quietly.

"You got a plan?"

"You bet! Here's what I'm going to do..."


	7. No One Escapes from Stalag 13

_Note: my apologies for the change of story avatar, but I really find that this boy resembles my image of Theo a lot closer than the kid I had here before._

 _._

* * *

"Right, who's next?"

August got up from his cot. He cast the soldier in blue a look that was as arrogant as it was defiant, and without a word he stepped past him out of their holding cell.

Newkirk grinned. "This way, if you please, sir." He led the way to the outer fringes of their tunnel system, where their underground latrine for downed flyers was located. "In you go. Although there still isn't much in the style of toilet paper, I'm afraid."

August stepped around the wooden partition and quickly relieved himself. This was it... He zipped up his fly, and quietly turned around to peer through the cracks in the partition. Where was his guard? Perfect – he was standing right in front of the opening, facing away, but with his body turned toward him. Quick then!

Newkirk turned his head just in time to see the kid come charging out of the loo with his head down. But even his reflexes weren't quick enough: "Oompf...!" He still grabbed for the boy even as he doubled over after the violent headbutt in his stomach. His hand brushed against the cotton of a shirt – but the kid had already taken off down the tunnel.

"Kinch!" August heard him wheeze behind him, but he paid his victim no heed. He had to find the ladder out of here, and quick, before the guy raised the alarm and the tunnels were swarmed with enemy soldiers.

But how many tunnels were there? He thought he remembered how to get back to the exit, but suddenly it seemed there were tunnels branching off everywhere, and they all looked the same: dark, and impossible to guess where they led. He tried to run on straight ahead as much as he could, but he could already hear the muffled sound of running footsteps. And voices. Where was that blasted ladder?!

Another bifurcation. No time to hesitate – he threw himself into the left opening. And ran straight into the ladder!

Already feeling jubilant, he jumped up the rungs and pushed at the wooden cover. It was heavier than he had expected, but maybe that was because they had locked it, as that man had said. Leaning against the rungs for support, he pushed at it with all his might. But the footsteps in the tunnels were coming closer – he was running out of time!

Suddenly, the cover's resistance lifted and he could raise it. Fresh air and a blue sky greeted him, and eagerly he scrambled up the last rungs to freedom and victory over the evil enemy prisoners.

But a fierce growl made him look up. Right in the face of a gigantic German shepherd, standing over him with his teeth bared and the drool dripping from his mouth.

August let out a startled shriek and staggered back. But behind him was nothing – nothing but air, and the next thing he knew he was falling down the ladder, right into the arms of one of the enemy soldiers who'd just come running in. The cover banged shut above him, at least shutting out that monster dog.

For a moment they just stared at each other – the strong black man, and the blond boy in his arms, his eyes wide with fright.

"What are you doing?" Kinch asked gently in German.

"I... I just wanted to..." August felt tears welling up. Of relief? Of disappointment? Anger? "Put me down!" he suddenly ordered, brusquely brushing away his tears of weakness.

Kinch did as he was told, although he held a firm grip on the boy's wrist.

"Let go of me!" August's anger was definitely taking over now, but he stood no chance against Kinch's vice-like grip, no matter how much he squirmed and twisted.

And there were the others: Hogan with his eyes flashing, and the still slightly stooped Newkirk. "What's going on here? What the heck are you doing _here_?" Hogan demanded of their young prisoner.

August just gave him a defiant glare.

And Hogan sighed. "Get him back to his cell. And tie them."

Kinch hesitated. "All three of them?"

A terse nod. "All three of them. We can't have them running around trying to escape." And to August he added, "You, my boy, are going to have to learn the lesson everyone has to learn sooner or later: _no one escapes from Stalag 13!_ Understood?"

* * *

"What happened?" Theo whispered once they were more or less left to themselves again, albeit now with their wrists and ankles tied.

August shrugged. "I headbutted that guy in blue and got away. And I found the exit. Only when I opened it, there was this giant monster dog, ready to bite my head off. And then they caught me before I could shoo him away."

Theo looked at him, but made no reply. His gut told him that August wasn't telling everything, but there seemed to be no reason to press him. So instead he asked, "So what do we do now?"

"Work on those ropes of course." August was already twisting his arms, trying to get a good grip on one of the knots. " _'No one escapes from Stalag 13'_ , they said. Ha! We'll show them!"

"They did it, too, in a book I read," Werner contributed. "It only took them an hour or so to get their hands free. And then they overpowered their kidnappers by surprise and..."

"Too bad your present guards are a bit more vigilant than those kidnappers in an adventure book," Goldman spoke up by the door. "I wouldn't get any ideas, if I were you. We've got orders to check on your ropes every hour. But if you insist on trying to get loose, we can make it every ten minutes."

August rolled his eyes at Werner in accusation, but Theo took a more philosophical view. "They're bound to be more vigilant now that we've tried to escape. It's no use, August. We're stuck here."

That earned him a glare, too. "Maybe _you_ are," August muttered, ferociously pulling at a knot.

* * *

Upstairs in the main room, August's daring escape attempt was the topic of conversation, too.

"I couldn't believe my eyes!" Garlotti stated for the fourth time. "There I was, quietly lounging in the morning sun, and suddenly the dog house is raised and one of those kids sticks up his head! If it wasn't for the dogs, we'd all be toast by now!"

"So what's the problem?" Carter challenged. "It turned out alright, didn't it? Thanks to the dogs."

"The dogs always know what to do." LeBeau stirred in the watery porridge on the stove. "They've never let us down."

"But the kid was _this_ close to revealing the entire operation!" Newkirk shuddered at the thought. "Imagine if the guards had come to investigate for real! A shriek, and a bang... That's bound to raise suspicion!"

"They wouldn't," LeBeau replied with serene confidence. "They're too scared of the dogs. And Sieglinde put on a marvellous act, didn't she? Pretending she'd hurt her tail."

"I still say we should punish the kid," Saunders poned again. "If only to scare them off from trying such a stunt again. Maybe no breakfast?"

LeBeau huffed. "You'd call this watery substance breakfast?"

But Kinch, calm and composed as always, shook his head. "I think we better leave it up to the Colonel to hand out any punishments."

"Well, I'm glad that they'll be out of our hair tonight," Newkirk muttered. "I can do without getting gutbutted, thank you very much."

This was too much for Carter. "Well, what would _you_ do if you got locked up and were told you wouldn't be able to go home until the war was over?"

Newkirk smirked. "Carter, that's exactly what happened to every man in this camp."

"But wouldn't you try everything you could to escape? You always told us you and LeBeau had numerous escape attempts before the Colonel took over. So how can you blame those kids for trying?"

"Carter," Kinch began, but Carter was just picking up speed.

"I mean, if I'd been captured and held prisoner by a bunch of strange guys when I was ten, I would have tried _anything_ to try and get away from them. Besides, _we_ have been _ordered_ not to escape, so..."

"So have they," Newkirk put in.

"By their captors! The enemy!" Carter gave back. "We're stuck here on orders from London, from our own side. That's a big difference. It's only natural to try and get away when your enemy captures you, isn't it?"

A multitude of shrugs and sighs seemed to indicate that the others couldn't argue that point.

"Of course you're right, Carter." It was Kinch who spoke up quietly in defence of everyone's reactions. "Personally, I think those boys are being very brave under the circumstances, and it's certainly natural that they're trying to escape. However, in doing so, they brought us all within half an inch of the firing squad this morning. That's the reality we have to face, too."

"And what about _their_ reality? Being sent off to England without their parents, for heaven knows how long... And those poor Mums and Dads, who at this very moment are crying their eyes out, utterly devastated because their little boy got killed in an explosion... or so they think... I wish..." He swallowed with difficulty. "I wish I could just leave them a note, you know. Telling them that their son is alright, and that they'll get him back once the war is over. I wish..."

"Carter."

Carter turned. A fiery red crept up his cheeks.

In the doorway to his quarters stood the Colonel. At first glance he looked his usual cool and collected self. But something, Carter realized with dread, something indefinable was off there.

"Yes, sir?" he croaked.

"I want to see you in my office. Now."


	8. Dissension in the Ranks

Slowly, reluctantly, Carter rose to his feet. The silence around him was deafening as he picked his way to the Colonel's office. That is, until Colonel Hogan closed the door behind him. _Then_ there was a sudden rush of indistinct but frenzied chatter to be heard through the thin partition wall.

Carter gulped. They didn't usually think about it, but the privacy of Hogan's 'private' quarters was only visual privacy. With just a tiny little bit of effort, everyone in the barracks could listen in on whatever was going on in here. And right now, he had a feeling he was in for a major scolding...

The start was already promising trouble... "Sergeant," Hogan stated evenly. _Sergeant_ , not Carter.

"Yes, sir?"

Hogan's eyes drilled into his as if he were trying to reprogram the algorithms in his brain. "I want you to know that I'm as unhappy about the situation as you are. And if you can think of another way to solve this problem, I'm all ears." He paused for a few seconds, waiting for Carter to voice an alternative plan. But his look was too intense, too intimidating for Carter to even venture opening his mouth, so a grim Hogan continued, "I thought so. Which means we're sticking to the original plan: the kids will be picked up and taken to London tonight, and their parents will have to remain convinced that the boys got killed when their tree house exploded. Is that clear?"

Carter swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"I'm glad we understand each other. Dismissed."

Hogan practically looked him out of the room, and it was with some relief that Carter turned to go.

Until he reached for the door knob. "But Colonel, couldn't we at least let those poor parents know that their boys are alright, and that they'll get them back after the war?"

Hogan closed his eyes for a moment and heaved a sigh. "No, we can't," he said with emphasis on every syllable. "It's too dangerous, Carter."

"But if we make like a message out of newspaper letters, we..."

"I said ' _no_ '!" Hogan cut him off.

"But...!"

"What do you think will happen when they get a message like that? The police will get involved, possibly the Gestapo, the whole area will be torn apart in the search for clues...! We can't risk it, Carter! And that's final!" Obviously, the Colonel was beginning to lose his cool, too, and with Carter already being quite riled up...

"But it's such a cruel thing to do! We're not monsters, are we? We're supposed to be the good guys!"

"There's a war on, Carter, in case you hadn't noticed." The sarcasm dripped from Hogan's voice.

As usual, the tone went right over Carter's head. "Of course I've noticed; that's why we're here in the first place: to defeat the enemy. But these kids are not the enemy! And neither are their parents!"

"We don't know that!" Hogan interjected heatedly.

"It doesn't matter!" Carter insisted; he was almost shouting now. "We didn't kidnap these kids to get at their parents for some war-related reason. They just ran into us by accident!"

"Yes, and I'm very sorry about that, but that 'accident' as you choose to call it turned these kids into a major threat to the operation! To _us_! This morning's escape attempt nearly got us in front of the firing squad! These kids are a serious danger to us, Carter; one word from them can get us all killed! I wish that fact would have registered in your brain by now!"

"I _know_ that, and I _agree_ that we need to get them out of the country!" Carter yelled back. "And I _know_ we can't tell their parents the truth, but to deliberately lead them to believe that their sons are dead is just plain cruel! It's just not fair!"

"Don't talk to me about war being fair!" Hogan hissed, barely holding on to his temper. "People get killed in wars, Carter. Even innocent bystanders. It isn't fair, no, but that's just the way it is. We, too, have done our share of killing, as you might recall. And we're not even killing anyone now, so you might want to save your protests for the next time we're blowing up the Berlin Express!"

Carter visibly stiffened. All the blood drained from his face, and immediately returned with a vigour. His eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth for a suitable retort – and found none. He tried again. "You... you..."

But the next moment he whacked open the door, raced through the barracks, and nearly tripped as the barracks door was opened by Schultz just as he was about to throw himself against it. And the next thing anyone knew was the sound of Carter's sprinting footfalls disappearing in the distance.

"You're grounded, pal!" a clearly equally irate Hogan called after him. "No trips to town, and the tunnel..." He gulped. "Oh. Hi, Schultz."

Inquisitively, Schultz looked back and forth between the not particularly calm Colonel Hogan and the doorway through which an obviously livid Carter had run off. "Trouble in the ranks, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan managed a quasi casual shrug. "Nothing I can't handle."

"So what brings you here, Schultzie?" Newkirk was quick to divert the Sergeant's attention in order to allow the Colonel a moment to compose himself. "Care for a game of cards?"

Schultz sighed. "No, Newkirk, I do _not_ care for a game of cards. I'm here to fetch Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant wants to see him."

"What about, Schultz?"

"I do not know, Cockroach. He doesn't tell me everything, you know."

"Alright, let's go see what he wants." Obviously having refound some of his equilibrium, Hogan zipped up his jacket to follow Schultz outside. But the look he gave Kinch in the passing spoke volumes...

* * *

"Damn you!" August tried to spit in Goldman's face, but the difficult angle caused him to miss. It was the sixth time his guard was undoing the progress he'd made on his bonds, and tying a few extra knots on top for good measure.

Across from him, Werner drew in his breath. "August...! If your Dad heard you say that...!"

"Yes, if your Dad heard that, I'm sure you'd be in for a good spanking!" Goldman patted him good-naturedly on the shoulder before he went back to his guard post at the door.

And August glared after him. "Well, my Dad isn't here, is he. And unless I do something about the situation, he'll just keep on thinking that I'm dead and he wouldn't care what I said anyway!" His glare found Theo. "At least I'm _doing_ something to try and get away. That's more than some people here can say."

Theo shrugged. "With them checking on our ropes every ten minutes or so, there's not much point in trying to get loose."

"You didn't even try!" August retorted. "Werner may be a weakling because he gave up, but you didn't even _try_!"

Another shrug. "I'd rather save my strength for when I see a realistic chance to escape. And that's not likely to happen from here."

"And when that chance comes, you'll still be all tied up, so you can't take advantage of it," August gave back.

"Neither can you, the way that guy is tying more and more knots in your ropes every time he checks on you."

August shoved himself upright and took a swipe at Theo's chin with his two bound fists.

"No!" Werner cried.

But the punch missed its mark, and due to his bound ankles, August overbalanced and ended up biting the dirt floor.

"No! Please don't fight!" Werner begged.

And there were Goldman and Baker, too. Goldman quickly pinned the kid down before he could turn around, and inquired, "Do we have to tie you to your cot, or would you prefer to be sedated? You're getting pretty annoying here!"

"To hell with you all!" August swore. "Just wait till I get out of here and tell the camp's Kommandant about what you're doing here. And then you'll all get shot – including those two little whimps on the cot there! They don't even _try_ to escape, the cowards. A disgrace to the superior German race, they are! A disgrace to the Führer!"

For several long seconds, a deadly silence hung between them. Until Baker audibly drew in his breath and whispered, "Did I just hear what I thought I just heard?"

Werner let out a sob. "Don't hurt him. _Please_ , don't hurt him!"

But Theo looked up at the enemy soldier. His face was almost apologetic. "He really is a nice kid – honest! It's just... he really likes the Hitler Jugend, you know. We _have_ to go there of course, and some of the activities are really fun. But August, he... he just takes it too seriously..."

From the floor, August growled, "You're just jealous because I've earned more medals and badges than the two of you together. You are a disgrace to the Hitler Jugend, both of you, and you'll never contribute anything useful to the glorious Third Reich. Losers – that's what you are. Losers! And I refuse to be kept in the same cell with you any longer!"


End file.
